Tal gets lucky--I sit for an hour cruising through random blogs, and all I get is giggly Singaporean teenagers and someone pretentiously obsessed with The New Yorker.
Tag: hotness
Poaching, and some advice
And I don't mean eggs. (Which reminds me--how could I have been talking about freebasing eggs, and not make a "this is your brain on drugs" joke? What a waste.)
Kabab Cafe, for old time’s sake
Like an elephant
So here I am back in New Mexico, land of enchantment (state bird: roadrunner; state cookie: biscochito), and I'm sitting in a cafe in Albuquerque using the wireless Internet, and I hear some guys next to me chatting.
Middle-floor-in-the-skyscraper pick-me-up
Whoo-ee. Just chugged my white-trash frappucino (or ghetto frap, depending
on who you want to denigrate):
Mmmm, Montreal
Now I'm _really_ back. Echoing my May itinerary, I did a full North American tour in a week, swapping my bag of sweaty tank tops and sandals for leather pants and a wool sweater and heading up north to Montreal.
Winding (and wearing) down
Although I don't leave for another five days, I'm getting to that point in the trip where everything starts accelerating--pretty much all my reservations are arranged for the remaining nights, and my list of things to do is very small and manageable.
Ha.
Funny: a lobby full of clowns in a hotel I passed earlier today here in Merida--clowns at rest, chatting, smoking cigarettes, puffing up their orange Afros.
Driving
I've almost cleared the 1000-kilometre mark, and about 300km of that I did today, driving UP and DOWN and all over the central and northern coast, so that after the eighth cute plaza with a little (or big) old church and pretty painted arcades, I was a little dazed.
You can’t take it with you
By contrast with DiFara's, a much more sociable meal occurred last week--and by "sociable," I mean there was lots of booze involved. Peter and I finally went to Spice Market.